


Shotgun Nemo (Kurobas Pacific Rim AU)

by nns_kanoe



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pacific Rim Fusion, Implied Slash, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-16
Updated: 2015-07-16
Packaged: 2018-04-09 16:10:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4355588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nns_kanoe/pseuds/nns_kanoe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Midorima is the Tokyo Shatterdome’s resident lone wolf; a creature of habit known best for the lucky charm he persistently wears around his neck, and his icy demeanor. His meticulously structured life is suddenly disrupted by the arrival of 3 new rangers, to one of whom he must entrust his past, present, and possibly future; a young man named Takao Kazunari.</p><p>Pacific Rim AU (Yes, I made each pair new Jaegers, there you go; my taste in names). Canon PacRim charas uninvolved. Rated T+ for language during later parts. Otherwise PG. Slash if you squint. MidoTaka with implied various other pairings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has been (give or take) two years in the making, so do forgive if the writing style differs between segments. I’ve tried to smoothen the whole thing out numerous times, but writing fics of this length is a definite anomaly for me. As such, apologies up front if it’s a touch bumpy here or there!

If no one had told him that the person smiling up at him were out of the ordinary, Midorima Shintarou never would have guessed. In fact, at risk of showing his egoistic streak, one he didn’t quite acknowledge having, this new partner seemed a little… Too ordinary, even, to drift with Tokyo Shatterdome’s, quite literal, ‘Top Gun’.

Regardless, orders came directly from Marshall Akashi, with no room for dispute. Such were Midorima Shintarou's thoughts while he led his new drift partner through the labyrinth that was their headquarters.

Clomping through the forbidding steel hallways, Midorima didn’t ask for introductions, his partner also silently dismissing the gesture. After all, in mere moments the two would be sharing the same, combined neural circuit; albeit with the assistance of dozens in crew, equipment valued in millions, and the most advanced neurological technology known to man. The tall ranger settled with a slight huff to show his discontent, and turned towards the LOCCENT. The other man trailed him like a puppy, but said nothing.

By habit, Midorima reached up to touch the fraying orange band that hung loosely around his neck. His new partner, he realized, took note of this, but still said not a word.

It felt odd to the taller man that their Marshall would have selected this unassuming person to take over such an important role; one that Akashi himself held just a few weeks prior. As inclined as Midorima was to isolation, he’d heard things about the three new pilots in Tokyo Shatterdome; snatches of baseless rumours and excited hearsay. As for direct information from the higher-ups, there had been pitiful and precious little. His Psych Analyst, Doctor Nakatani, hadn’t said anything during his regular checkup that morning, Akashi hadn’t been seen much by anyone since his return from acquiring the pilots in Russia, and Nijimura was silently overseeing affairs, having lost the ability to control them.

All Midorima had to go by, was the judgement of his former co-pilot, Akashi. Thankfully, he had plenty of experience with just that.

The oppressive steel hallways opened at last to a rivermouth of bustling people. Once in the LOCCENT, relief bloomed over the tall, bespectacled man’s face when the sight of their Marshall met his sore eyes. Remembering his purpose, he walked over in two long strides, releasing the orange band from his fingers.

“Akash- I mean, Marshall, we need to talk. You know why I can’t...”

“It will work Shintarou...” Akashi calmly replied, signing a document before turning back to the electronic displays. “I trust I need not remind you this is just a simulation, not an actual deployment.” Seeing as Midorima still wasn’t satisfied, he spared the taller man a confident smile, as if daring him to question a superior’s  judgement (and direct orders). “One of the new pilots was even able to drift with Daiki, isn’t that saying something?” At this, Midorima cringed, knowing only too well the temperament that had ejected their former Marshall from service in a drift accident. “I should like to think of you as less… particular, than that.”

Akashi’s voice left little room for negotiation, and with a delayed nod, Midorima relented his protests. “Now go suit up. Takao, you too.”

It took the new pilot awhile to respond to the Marshall’s beckoning, but he soon gave a quick salute, the same quirky smile on his face, then disappearing from sight.

Midorima was still far from entirely convinced when they met again in the drivesuit room. It felt alien suddenly seeing someone else wearing the custom drivesuit that matched his own, even though Takao was approximately the same size and build as Akashi. Nothing was said till they entered the conn-pod; at the very least Takao seemed to know what he was doing, dissuading however little of Midorima’s worries. The crew left the drivesuit room, having checked and double-checked that they were both securely attached to their equipment; it was probably at this point that the star Ranger finally gave up all hopes that this was just an elaborate prank of some sort.

He steeled his shaking wrists, hoping dearly his voice not betray him. “Shotgun Nemo, ready for the drop.”

Even as they braced for impact, Midorima still couldn’t help feeling jittery in his fingers; the current procedure went against everything he felt comfortable with. Drifting with someone he didn’t trust, or even know, seemed like going through Jaeger Academy trials all over again. There was no bond between them at all, in any form, and it was uncomfortable as it was disconcerting. After all, with this procedure, his whole life’s memories would be Takao’s easy pickings.

That, if nothing else, Midorima wasn’t ready for.

A voice through the system tore his thoughts from reaching to his neck for the orange band. “This is Marshall Akashi Seijuro. Standby for neural handshake.”

Reluctance clear as polished crystal, Midorima swallowed hard. His dread mounted as the countdown slowly pushed closer to naught, the man peering over at his co-pilot. For the first time since their introduction, their eyes met, and Takao turned back to their shared control panel with the same little smile on his face.

“It’ll be alright.” He said, his voice somehow warm and clear, even in the noisy conn-pod saturated with metallic whirring, comms crackles, nerves and tension. “Just do your thing. I won’t interfere.”

Overwhelmed by a wave of inexplicable calm, Midorima was caught a split-second unaware upon initiation of the neural handshake. The drift commenced, and while mentally bracing himself for the dizzying flood of his own dormant memories, the taller pilot soon noticed a striking deviation from all his past drifts.

Quite simply, there was nothing on his co-pilot's half of the rising tide. No memories, no emotions, no curiosity, no judgement, no resistance. It was sheer nothingness. A void. In his mind’s ears, he heard a light-hearted chuckle, turning to the shorter man who was already smiling back at him.

“This is it, Midorima Shintarou. Drifting with an empty pilot.” He heard his name, only then becoming increasingly aware of how sharp his vision had become. The level of acuity was something he’d never felt before, even when drifting with Akashi. Or rather, it was something entirely different. He felt suddenly sensitive to everything going on around him, information flowing freely into his mind through his partner.

It felt nothing short of incredible. Though for certain he wasn’t about to admit it.

“... Hmph. I see, so this is what they had planned.” Midorima grouched, quite unnecessarily; Takao understood perfectly.

“It’s gonna be ok.” Came the whispered response, and Midorima could almost feel his partner carefully skimming through his past battle experiences to get up to speed. “I don’t interfere with anything so… It’ll be just you.”

With prompting from headquarters, the couple drew their primary weapon, positioning the Jaeger into battle stance.

“I would suppose so, Takao Kazunari.”

If that had been a complaint, or a surrender, Takao probably realized it; Midorima honestly didn’t think his efforts of hiding his shock and disdain from his new partner were at all tremendous. More likely than not, the star pilot hadn’t bothered with concealment at all. The drift was deemed a mind-blowing success by normal standards, however, Akashi was already expecting Midorima to raise the roof. Right after the tall man burst into the LOCCENT, the redhead walked out, swiftly waving a hand for the pair to follow before Midorima could even release his prepared argument.

Follow they did, Takao in silent resolve and Midorima in growing discomfort. Once Akashi had sat the two down in a meeting room, Midorima’s outburst was just as predictable as it logically may have been to a former drift-partner.

“I refuse to drift with him.”

“Shintarou, calm down.”

“Akashi, is this what you meant by ‘it will work’? Because I won’t be taking shots at enemies tangled with allies based on just good vision. I… I need to trust him, but there’s nothing there to trust.”

The meanwhile, Takao sat where he was, silent and still. He didn’t quite know why he was as calm as he appeared to be, but some part of it felt as if this was the least of his problems. As if he’d already been wrung out, hung up to dry and thrown back into the deep end many more times than he could count.

Or at least, there was a dull aching echo in his mind, a gut feeling more than a conscious memory. If it had actually happened, when or how, he couldn’t recall at all; there simply was nothing to draw on. As far as memories went, his life had only just began when he awoke in the Tokyo Shatterdome pilot tech lab.

“Naturally your battle tactics will have to be revised.” Akashi replied calmly, only then did Midorima realize how worked up he was compared to everyone else in the room; most of whom were staring at him by then. “I’ve been planning it with Doctor Nakatani, but for now...” He folded his hands together, eyeing the two with obvious intent, and the slightest of smiles. “For now, you two will need to learn to get along.”

Midorima didn’t quite understand the look in Akashi’s eyes. Not at least, till he returned to his stateroom; which was his no more. It had been fastidiously vacated, the only thing staring at Midorima from the bare-stripped room being a note taped to his former desk.

Clutching the note, and nervously fingering the band around his neck, he began walking towards the living quarters indicated on it. The displeased clomping of his boots on steel flooring reverberated gloriously throughout the halls. From his memory, it was an area largely populated by those of considerable military rank, which was odd considering he hadn’t been given such privileges even as one of the Shatterdome’s top talents. What was this, bribery? Midorima barely hid a sniff; if Akashi had been thinking he could be pacified like a child with better living quarters, then their Marshall was beginning to lose his touch.

The true reason became all too apparent the moment he saw Takao walking towards him from the other end of the corridor, holding a similar note. “What is the meaning of this.” The tall man demanded even as Takao shrugged, apparently just as clueless if not more so. With a frustrated click of his tongue, Midorima turned away, just as he heard the clunk and whine of a heavy stateroom door being opened. He turned back again to the sight of Takao disappearing behind the room door, and immediately there came a whistle of admiration.

Well, Midorima had to admit he never knew what the quarters around this area looked like; were they really as impressive as Takao seemed to think? Curious, he poked his head around the door, staring into a room that looked deflatingly similar to what he was already used to... Barr it being double the size, with one half mirroring the other. Immediately he understood only too clearly what Akashi had in mind, his expression turning into one of borderline horror. Had Akashi been anyone other than their Marshall, he’d have demanded to see the other man right away.

Takao chose this moment to explain his earlier enthusiasm. “That’s a lot of stuff you got in there, Shin chan.”

“Sh-Shin chan?! Why I never-” Before he could depart his protest, Takao had already slung his jacket on top of the desk in his apparent half of the room, and started settling down. He stared almost accusingly at the other man, wondering if this had truly been the person he’d drifted with no more than an hour ago. The usual (sometimes petty) tactics Midorima would’ve adopted to maintain his comfortable isolation didn’t seem to deter the young man at all. In fact, he seemed almost deliberate in his graceful ignorance of Midorima’s behavior; just like Akashi, both of them like adults handling a child. The thought alone brought Midorima down a few pegs from sheer chagrin.

The first step into the room was hardest, probably. But as Midorima settled down in front of what was to be his new desk, he started remembering their drift.

Truth be told, it hadn’t been entirely empty on Takao’s side, now that he’d sat down for reflection. The things he did remember were few and subtle, since the both of them had been focusing on the tasks at hand. But they were there, like a brief whiff of fresh sky after the rain. Admiration, passive acceptance, curiosity, a surplus of playful mischief, and in the smallest of corners, where Midorima didn’t bother looking at the time, there were shadows of what almost seemed like memories. Hazy echoes, impressions, subconsciously acquired skills of the trade.

Funny that it’d be gnawing at him this strongly now, when he’d chosen to ignore it then. “How did it happen.” He questioned at length, not turning towards Takao; though this time, he wasn’t quite sure why he’d avoided the other man’s gaze.

“I don’t know.” Came the breezy response; as if they spoke of the weather, or tonight’s canteen menu.

“Is it going to happen again.”

“I don’t know.” Was the reply once more, with a slight chuckle punctuating the end. Mildly offended, Midorima turned around to the sight of Takao, sitting backwards in his chair and already scrutinizing his new roommate. The shorter man’s lips twisted into a rather lazy, lopsided grin, Midorima turning away immediately and pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He felt a slight temperature from what couldn’t possibly have been a blush creeping up his neck.

It took a well deserved few seconds for that moment of comedy to fade away.

“You don’t remember anything. At all.” He’d almost hoped that negotiating, or asking more questions, would’ve changed anything.

“Nyope. It’s not that I’m holding back anything from you, what you saw is what it is. There’s nothing there.” From the way he was discussing it, Midorima couldn’t help feeling it wasn’t as big of a deal to Takao as it was to him.

“What does it feel like?” His lips moved before he’d even realized he was genuinely curious. Perhaps, even, slightly envious.

Takao considered this, much in the way anyone else might have if they’d encountered deja vu. “Well… Who’s to say? There’s nothing I can compare it to. This is all I know.” Midorima couldn’t help feeling a touch guilty for his fascination, the reality of their current situation suddenly hitting him.

“But...” Takao turned to Midorima again, expression mischievous. “It’s kind of exciting, cause almost everything that happens is a first to me.”

There was something in that tone of Takao’s voice that had Midorima flustered and blushing like a juvenile. He settled hastily into his seat, grumbling how it didn’t feel exactly like his old one (a creature of habit, he’d grown rather used to that slight kink on the backrest). Maybe he’d go back and drag his old chair into this room when no one was looking.

“Remember to stay on your half of the room.” With that, Takao knew their brief conversation was over.

Filing his Kaiju data onto a shelf, Midorima wondered why nothing had been said about the band around his neck. Surely Takao knew, having drifted with him once before, and for most people it would probably have been the first point of discussion. Not that he’d answer, usually averting his gaze and walking away; pretty much that itself had earned him his frosty reputation as a loner.

He shifted to unpack his clothes, still wondering why this man was going to be any different.

Fortunately for them, the last Kaiju had been dealt with, deft and cleanly, by Murasakibara and Akashi. The Shatterdome had considerably more stress-free time for Midorima to introduce Takao to their Jaeger, the attached engineering-crew, their Psych Analyst, and getting Takao overall incorporated into the Shatterdome. Which, of course, meant Takao wandering around on his own, trespassing anywhere and everywhere, being told off by the Shuutoku engineering team’s staff and then being sent to Nakatani for another scolding. Whatever it was, Takao shrugged it off with his usual grins, smiles and carefree laughter, like a pet puppy that had just tipped the chow box and had the time of his life, consequences be damned.

During Takao’s numerous escapades, Midorima rarely was even out of his stateroom, instead going through his files of various Kaiju and their characteristics, movement patterns, critical areas, weaknesses, the likes. Not that he wasn’t familiar with the whole list already, he just felt compelled to keep himself in check, now that Akashi wasn’t there anymore. In his place… Well, now there was Takao; essentially the opposite.

Not to mention, it gave him an indisputable reason to stay inside; responsibility, as always, proved a convenient pretence.

“Ehh? You’re really rooming with Midorimacchi??” Kise gawked over dinner one evening while Takao looked up from his food. “Must be tough, he’s such an ice-queen and all. Does Midorimacchi get you to clean up everything and never leave anything lying out of place?”

“Not really?” Takao thought to himself, recalling the distinct line between the compulsively organized side, and the… Slightly less orderly side of their room. “He just lets me do what I want pretty much, as long as I keep it to my half of the crib. So, it’s alright I guess.”

“Heeehhh.” Kise cooed, turning back to Takao after charming a passerby into returning his tray for him. “Well, Midorimacchi really is a loner, so I guess it’s not surprising… Ah, thanks Aominecchi.” He beamed when a tall, tanned man handed him a cup of coffee and invited himself to sit.

“So, you’re another one of the guys like Tetsu.” Aomine muttered, grimacing from an elbow to the gut by Kise. “Ow, what the hell?”

Kise pouted, gathering his folders of blueprints and sketches. “Aominecchi, don’t be such a dick.” He hissed, ignoring the resulting grin and turning back to Takao. “Used to being here yet?”

If Kise had noticed his pause, Takao didn’t know it. He gave a slight chuckle, gathering his glass of water and taking a sip to hide the flash of dejection on his face.

He didn’t know if he was used to it yet, he didn’t know what being used to anything felt like. Aside from those aching echoes of sensations that he’d get time to time, he had no clue what it really felt like returning to something and having it still be there.

Explaining, however, just didn’t seem like something to be done in the mess halls. “Yeah, settling in well enough. it’s nice here.” He replied, hoping the lapse hadn’t been as noticeable as he’d thought.

With that, Kise gave him a wide grin before downing a few mouthfuls of coffee. Despite the blond’s generally smooth and harmless demeanor, however, Takao had a pretty good idea what was about to transpire when the other man suddenly leaned in closer, raising a hand to dim his voice.

“Say, Takaocchi… You’ve drifted with Midorimacchi right? Then you know doncha?” The blond squeaked gleefully, excitement beaming from his golden eyes.

He knew exactly what Kise had been hitting at, but made a show of graceful ignorance, the blond giving him a quick nudge in the ribs. “Oh come on now, you were totally curious too weren’t you? The good luck charm he wears around his neck, the one he keeps touching when he gets nervous. Only other person who knows is Akashicchi, who’ll never tell. Then the rest are all dead, like, literally. It’s one of the Shatterdome’s biggest mysteries.”

Takao scratched the side of his face, feeling the full weight of Kise’s anticipation. “... Well…” He hesitated, trying to pull everything together in his mind. “Empty drift pilots have this thing with their memory, it’s encoded into us that we can’t access our partner’s deepest, darkest secrets. It’s blocked by this neural firewall, that’s just what we call it anyway, we don’t know what the boffins call it. Back where we came from, the pilots who drifted with us were neuro-engineered too, so they could choose what to block and what to share. We were designed this way so people would feel safer drifting with us, kind of just an empty cartridge, existing plainly to share the neural load, yanno?”

Kise gave him a dry look, leaning heavily on a hand with a pout. “Takaocchi, you do realize I design Jaegers, right? You’re totally shitting me.”

Without the slightest remorse, the shorter man stuck out his tongue. “Go ask him yourself.”

Kise smiled, giving his adversary a punch on the shoulder. “Heh. You’re really something.” He grinned cheerfully, turning to Aomine and striking up a conversation that Takao couldn’t quite follow yet. Before he ran out of water and was about to excuse himself, Midorima stepped in to the canteen, punctuated by a subtle hush in the volume of chatter that soon bounced back to normal. Unaware, the tall man merely went to queue for his meal, glancing over at his usual seat to make sure it wasn’t occupied.

It took awhile for Midorima to spot Takao, even as he waved like a seabird trying to take off, but quickly chose to ignore it. Instead, he made a habitual beeline for the quiet area that everyone knew was unofficially reserved for him; a fact he himself remained gracefully ignorant of. Kise and Aomine soon turned back to their previous conversation, dismissing Midorima’s behavior as the norm.

While most people in the area chose to give Midorima the berth he clearly wanted, Takao was set on doing the exact opposite. Kise’s eyes followed the man curiously as he picked up his half eaten meal, moving towards the sidelined quiet area with his intentions clear. There was another subtle hush in the ambient chatter when Takao invited himself to sit by Midorima, plonking his tray next to him. Midorima did little more than raise an eyebrow, quietly turning back to his own food.

“Why’re you here.” He muttered at length, wishing he had brought one of his note-filled Kaiju files out with him. “Surely Kise is better company.”

“That’s cold, Shin chan. I didn’t see you all day, have you seriously been in the room since this morning?” He noted with guilty satisfaction the deepening of Midorima’s frown upon hearing his nickname.

“I do what I must.” The ranger replied curtly, his shoulders beginning to relax somehow.  “In fact you could use some of it too.”

“Nah, only one of us needs to know that stuff, right?” The shorter man replied, sticking his tongue out cheekily.

Midorima let out a sigh, questioning why he’d even tried. His glance returned to his drift partner after an eyeroll.

“By the way, there’s a briefing for us later with Nakatani-san, go get ready.”

With a satisfied smile befitting a schoolboy after touching the headmaster’s desk for a dare, the raven-haired man finished off the rest of his food, picking it clean down to the gravy. “Chi--ssu.”

Kise elbowed Aomine excitedly in the ribs, eyes wide and mouth gaping as he watched the two leaving together shortly after. “Oh my God Aominecchi, I think Takaocchi’s conquered the snow queen!”

The man gave a lovely yawn, despite the coffee sitting right in front of him. “... Oh, right, he did have that nickname.”

Kise narrowed his bright amber eyes. “Wow. You’re really interested aren’t you Aominecchi.”

“Absolutely,” came the lethargic reply as Aomine downed the rest of his coffee. “Don’t hold back on me now.”

The briefing that Midorima had mentioned was about nothing other than their new battle tactics, which immediately had the shooter’s hair standing on end from his nerves, his fingers immediately reaching for the ribbon around his neck. “Hold on… This can’t be right. You said we’re to be deployed beyond the miracle mile?”

“That’s what it says here.” Nakatani sighed, handing them both a document that Midorima received and read through with vengeful scrutiny. Takao, knowing the exact reason, remained silently pensive, the entire context having been given to him during their first few drifts. “Marshall Akashi seems to have his mind set on developing you two to go out and intercept, instead of staying behind the defense line as extra firepower.”

“But-but that’s… That’s not what this Jaeger was designed to do!” Midorima protested with wide-blown eyes, scanning the papers and heavily resenting Takao for not mirroring his panic. “I must speak to Akashi, he’ll understand, he knows why I can’t-”

“Midorima, calm down,” Nakatani sighed, noting Midorima’s nervous habit and reaching up to pat the Ranger on his shoulder. Ignoring the comforting gesture, the taller man continued tearing lines off the page. “It’s going to be different from when you were drifting with the Marshall, but different might not be a bad thing.”

Suddenly aware of how he was affecting Takao, though nothing showed on his face, Midorima did calm down. He forced himself, however reluctantly, to release the band, his shoulders sagging and expression turning from defiant to grim.

“There’ll be a simulation session tomorrow, for all of the… New pilots.” Nakatani eyed Takao carefully, prompting a quick nod of understanding from the smaller man. “And the boys are switching out your primary weapons system as we speak. You should have awhile to get used to things before an actual mission.”

Midorima sighed, eventually setting the document back down, the light in his eyes all but distinguished. “... Understood.”

That night they spent in the shared room was a quiet one, for once void of Takao bothering Midorima with silly little things like smuggling his old chair into their new room, watching raunchy movies with Miyaji and the engineering team, or the deadly hazing challenge of raiding Murasakibara’s pantry. Midorima didn’t comment, but he was grateful for the silence.

Takao, naturally, knew full well why Midorima was two steps away from a nervous breakdown, and it wasn’t about their Jaeger’s weakness either. To be sure, Shotgun Nemo had never been deployed in the frontline, or anywhere near it, for good reason. Although the Jaeger was unrivaled in speed and precision, the defenses functions had been considerably sacrificed to achieve that. The body had been stripped back to the bare essentials, any extra weight on the body had been avoided; including proper armoring. Their jaeger was the epitome of a glass cannon; any attack at all was likely to prove fatal.

Though, Takao carefully eyed the fraying orange band around Midorima’s neck; he understood full well that there was more to Midorima’s reluctance than Jaeger specs.

From Takao’s side of the room, already dark, the desk lamp on Midorima’s side seemed like a spot of sun, illuminating the ranger’s tense, sullen features. Sprawled unceremoniously on his own bed, Takao didn’t need to see the other man to know he was toying with the band. As the pair steeped in silence, Takao couldn’t help a nagging feeling that Midorima wasn’t ready for the imminent trial. Had he said anything to that effect however, it was more than certain that Midorima would have tanned his hide. He drew in a sigh, wondering how he possibly could have been as confident as he was in knowing Midorima wasn’t in shape for a drift. It wasn’t from having previously stepped into Midorima’s mind, or from seeing that nervous habit either. It was something else entirely. One of those echoes perhaps, the echoes he felt when he walked into a conn-pod, upon the initiation of the drift, when he’d met Midorima for the first time.

He simply seemed to know what to do, not consciously, not by instruction. He didn’t remember how, but just knew.

It was upsetting. Not painful, but considerably upsetting, like holding the string of a kite engulfed in the murk. It felt, increasingly, as if whatever he did wasn’t by his own knowledge or decision; as if his entire life was meaninglessly running a repeat course, governed by habits and instincts he didn't even know he had.

Turning away from Midorima, he settled down to sleep, bidding his partner sweet dreams. Though apprehensive, he couldn’t help hoping that the following day would prove a meaningful distraction from his own worries.

The air was thick in the simulation chambers. Having drifted with faultless Akashi most the time, Midorima wasn’t used to closely monitoring his drift partner. Perhaps owing to that, he ignored the dark spot on Takao’s side of the drift; one partially clouding what had been a clear playing field when they’d drifted before. Perhaps it was also owing to him trying all night to shelve his own nerves, not wanting Takao, or more importantly Akashi, to see him showing any weakness. Despite Takao’s ability, the drift was uncomfortable, unstable, all the signs of a fragile bond displayed on the screens, as plainly as it was on their faces.

It would have been both a mistake and incredible act of ludicrousy to allow a battle simulation under these circumstances, and both of them felt a defeated sigh unknotting the tension on their shoulders when Akashi’s voice came through the system.

“Proceed with the simulation.”

“What…?” The exclamation broke free of both rangers’ lips in unison, before they shared a look of disbelief. In the meanwhile, reports of successful drifts from the two other Jaegers poured in via the intercomms.

“Valkyrie Atlus online.” Came Murasakibara’s lazy voice with a yawn, followed by a gentle chuckle that couldn’t have been anyone but Himuro. Clearly, the other rangers were blissfully unaware of the grey clouds churning in Midorima and Takao’s heads.

“Euclid Rebel online.” Upon hearing that voice, Midorima couldn’t help picturing Aomine's shit-eating grin. The face, name or even existence of his drift partner however, eluded the green-haired man entirely.

“Hey… You ok?” Takao whispered to his partner, the taller man turning to him with little more than the weight of relent on his face.

“Yeah…” He sighed, Takao immediately understanding it as the voice of necessity rather than truth. Expression morose, Midorima blinked heavily, reminding himself it was just a drill. Shaking fingers reached for the comms. “Shotgun Nemo, online.”

It took all of a few minutes for it to become clear that Takao’s instinct the night before, both their worries, and the screen readings had been spot on. The simulation was terminated prematurely. A very worried Himuro, devil-may-care Murasakibara in tow, Aomine pissed off beyond his usual margin, and an ever passive Kuroko joined Midorima and Takao in the Drivesuit room.

“What the bloody hell was that?!” Aomine let loose once Midorima came into view. With a deceptively dismissive snort, Midorima turned to a side, Takao keeping a keen eye on the whole situation. It wasn’t showing, but Takao could tell from a bitten lip that Midorima was dying to reach his hand to his neck for the band.

Murasakibara produced a bag of chips from a corner, like a 7ft squirrel unearthing a buried nut. “It’s rare that Midochin would miss the target isn’t it.”

“That’s not the issue you putz,” Aomine hissed, pointing directly at the guilty duo, as Murasakibara quietly asked Himuro what ‘putz’ meant. “The main thing is, you shot us. What if it was a real battle? It's our goddamn necks there up front, you could’ve killed us!”

Midorima, affronted, shielded his remorse by shooting back, keeping his hands held stiffly by his sides. “Hmph, don’t be such an insolent prat, I’d like to think it’d take more than one shot to kill you, especially considering the much smaller rounds I’m using now.” Takao quietly noted the singular referral with the same familiar calm that had him expecting today’s failure. It was only a matter of time before Akashi showed up, and, true to form, Aomine and Midorima quarreled adamantly till he did.

“All of you suit down immediately.” It took all of the Marshall stepping into the room for everyone present to silence themselves. He eyed the group of them, including Murasakibara hiding his chips behind his back. “Atsushi how many times must I tell you the Drivesuit rooms are sterile areas. Shintarou,” Midorima winced, shrinking almost visibly. “You and Takao both are to wait for me in meeting room 4. Is that clear?”

The two sounded off in unison, Takao still feeling the full weight of Midorima’s guilt, shock, blame and utter disillusionment from the moment he’d gone off target. Taking a cue from his partner’s stoic front though, he chose not to say anything, tiptoeing around the delicate situation.

It didn’t take the physical distance between them for Takao to know that getting along with Midorima was going to be a much taller order than he’d come to expect. But, the unnecessarily quick pace that Midorima kept while heading to the assigned meeting room spoke volumes.

The rangers were seated in a fragile, uncomfortable silence for longer than either had expected; Akashi stepped in, quite possibly just before one of the two snapped into a nervous breakdown, accompanied by a visibly concerned Nakatani. For the first time in years Midorima stared into his lap, the familiar feeling of the band between his fingers, feeling as if he’d been thrown back to his school days. Perhaps, scratch that; he’d never even gotten into trouble in school before.

Not a soul in the room dared made eye contact with any other, but Midorima didn’t need visual confirmation to know what kind of face their Marshall was making.

Heart pounding in his ears, all he could hear was the sound of fabric shifting as Akashi crossed his legs; a sign that this was going to take awhile. He’d only bore occasional witness while Aomine was receiving this sort of scrutiny, never once thinking he’d someday be subject to it himself. “This level of performance is rare for you, Shintarou. Is there anything you would like to discuss.”

Hearing this, Midorima turned to Akashi almost accusingly; of all people, his former drift partner ought to have known. Setting his teeth, he delivered his prepared speech. “I do not know what happened. I put in the same amount of concentration and effort as always.” It wasn’t dodging the blame; while waiting for his superiors to arrive, Midorima had given the simulation some careful reflection. He couldn’t think of anything that was different, aside from the nervousness he couldn’t deny having from the sudden switch of tactics. The variables had remained constant, except for one.

He let out a sigh; to him, there couldn’t have been any other reason. “Marshall,” he began, throwing Takao a subtle look, “I... Really don’t think it’s a good idea for me to continue drifting with him.”

Hearing this, Akashi set his elbows on the table, fingers weaving together under his chin.

“Takao you are dismissed for now. Go back to your stateroom, I am expecting a reflection from you tomorrow morning. Doctor Nakatani, a word with Midorima, if I may.”

The doctor stood wordlessly  to leave, Takao following closely, consulting him on the details of report writing. This was the chance that Midorima had long awaited. Relieved, he simply waited till both his Psych Analyst and co-pilot had exited the room. Once he was sure the door had been closed behind them, he turned to their Marshall with an almost pleading look on his face.

The cold, blood-red eye that awaited him, however, wasn’t what he’d expected.

“Shintarou, it would seem my hopes in you have been misplaced.” The words fell on Midorima like a violent hail. “I had been hoping that Takao would be able to help you get over your stubborn beliefs, but if you insist on taking your self-righteousness this far, there is very little more I can do for you.”

Midorima felt his blood running cold, sitting straight up as his fists clenched in his lap. “But this is, I mean… I can’t...”

“ ‘I can’t’ is something we don’t have the luxury of saying right now, Shintarou, considering the weight of national security on our shoulders.” Midorima swallowed as Akashi closed his eyes and continued. “You are one of the best pilots here, in the world perhaps even, everyone knows and accepts that. Even if you think you ‘can’t’, there are things you simply have to do.”

With a nervous tremor, Midorima couldn’t help feeling the patch over Akashi’s eye served to punctuate his point.

He surrendered with a sigh, the light in his eyes fading. “I understand.” With permission he stood to leave, still trying to gather his wits back about him. Already one step out of the room, he paused at Akashi’s beckon.

"Shintarou, in case it isn’t already clear enough: I need you to be making decisions now, not following them blindly."

The ranger paused, as if expecting further instructions. When they never came, a very uncertain Midorima walked out of the meeting room, and spent a good few moments staring at the ground as the metal door clunked shut behind him.

He went straight back to his stateroom.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter for structuring purposes!

Their shared quarters were empty when Midorima stepped apprehensively in.

 

Some mechanic habit of procedure told him this much; the first step was to at least find Takao and sort out their differences, communicate what to do or had to be done from that point onward, and perhaps exchange inevitably awkward shuffling apologies.

 

For that though, he did need his co-pilot.

 

When he thought about it, he didn't quite know who to go to when it came to things regarding Takao. He didn't quite know who Takao’s friends were, what he’d have done in his free time, who the other man would've talked to if he was troubled, or where he'd have gone aside from their stateroom. All he could remember, he realized then, were how things the other man did had affected his life.

 

As he left the secure privacy of their stateroom, it seemed almost like for the first time, Midorima realized Takao had his own life to live, that he was more than an accessory to adorn Midorima’s own stumbling gait through time. Takao didn't just disappear when he exited Midorima's field of view, he had his own perpetuity as an individual, independent of Midorima’s own.

 

The hallways and meeting rooms were void of his co-pilot. Searching the canteen proved just about as fruitless. Asking the Shuutoku engineering team or Nakatani left him none the wiser, and even, shock horror, talking to Kise didn't give Midorima a clue as to where Takao had disappeared to.

 

Much of the Shatterdome found itself perplexed that afternoon, when treated to the sight of their resident ice queen running around in what almost seemed like urgency; moreover, initiating contact with other people in search of his partner.

 

Himuro opened a hatch cover on the top of the Shatterdome, looking around to see Takao peering at him, not entirely surprised, a cigarette dangling precariously from his lips.

 

"So. I heard you got quite an earful." He invited himself to sit down next to his fellow pilot, gently rejecting the offered cigarette.

 

"Not as much as he did." Takao remarked calmly, not really caring if his voice was lost to the howling wind funneled up by the infrastructure. "Just need to write a report... Old man Nakatani's helping."

 

Himuro nodded knowingly, dragging his knees up to his chest. There was a comfortable pause between them as smoke from Takao’s cigarette disappeared in the wind, snatched away like tangles of misty, singed silk. "You like places like this too hmm."

 

With a slight chuckle, the shorter man snuffed his cig and tossed it over the edge of the building. "You know why."

 

Tucking a strand of stray hair behind his ear, Himuro nodded, the look in his eyes just a touch melancholy as they gazed out on the rippling sheet of ocean below them. "Yeah... I do."

 

They gazed in silence, from their vantage point, the ocean below, the bustling crowds of workers, equipment, soldiers, aircraft. Both of them marveling in the feeling they’d get when they saw something they didn’t remember seeing ever before, but somehow knew what it did, how it worked, what purpose it served in the massive infrastructure.

 

And that they were a part of it all.

 

“It feels... Strange, really. To know so much and so little at the same time.” Himuro whispered at length, Takao nodding numbly by his side. The two said no more.

 

Something finally clicked when Midorima heard, purely by chance, that Murasakibara was also missing his partner. After all, both Himuro and Takao were that special sort of Empty Drift pilot, chances were good that even if they weren't together, Himuro would have a better idea on Takao's whereabouts.

 

However, searching the crawling hive of Tokyo Shatterdome for two people wasn't much of an improvement on locating just one.

 

"Ah? Murochin?" Murasakibara yawned, finishing off the last stick in his box of pocky. Without even needing to search, he casually tossed the packet into the nearest trashcan, as if he'd already mapped them all in his mind. "Yeah I know where he is."

 

"I need to find him, where is he?"

 

The giant seemed perplexed, producing another packet of cookies from practically nowhere. "Why would you need to find Murochin if Takachin is your partner?"

 

"That's... It's... It's complicated."

 

Leaning his head to a side, Murasakibara found the temptation of teasing their notoriously straight-laced compadre simply too enticing. “Tell me what the deal is with your necklace, and I’ll tell you where Murochin is.”

 

Midorima stepped back, instinctively clutching the band while looking positively scandalized. At this the giant doubled over, back shaking from silent mirth. When he stood again, he dabbed at the corner of his eyes, ignoring the daggers Midorima was glaring at him. "Maa... Murochin likes to go to high places with no people sometimes. But if Takachin is like him, you might want to wait for him to come back."

 

"Why is that?"

 

Once again, Murasakibara seemed confused. "I thought Midochin of all people would've known that best? Aren’t you the one who always likes being alone?"

 

Hearing this, the sharpshooter heaved a sigh, suddenly unsure of himself. With a nodded thanks he took his leave, Murasakibara waving lazily as he headed in the direction of his stateroom. Of the few people he could talk to, Akashi was no longer one of them. What Kise said to Takao had been true; the other rangers who had piloted with him had all been killed in battle some way or another. The only one left that he could talk to, and hopefully sort things out with, was that playful, mischievous brat with the spirited storm grey eyes.

 

He spun on his heels, taking off towards the nearest staircase, elevator, anything. High places, he murmured to himself, drawing a blank on any concrete locations. The more he looked around, with no direction in mind aside from 'up', the more he realized how little of the Shatterdome he'd actually explored in all his years of service.

 

Once he started on the task, even he was surprised how singlemindedly he carried it out. Rushing elevators, swinging around corners, footsteps quickening to a natural run. Passers by reacted with amusement to annoyance and everything in between, probably wondering if that afternoon's failure had really hit Midorima quite that hard. He found himself fleeing from staff accusing him of trespassing, going through doors with clear signage preventing just that, and vaulting over guardrails like it wasn't the first time he'd done so in his life.

 

It was all a blind search at best. He knew that. So when he saw Takao on the other side of a door he'd just yanked open, he found himself at a supreme loss that displayed all too blatantly on his face.

 

Both of them stood on the two sides of that door, blinking stiffly from sheer bewilderment.

 

It was Takao who broke the delicate silence. "Shin chan, what're you doing here?" He muttered reluctantly, gaze averted, looking as if he'd have side-stepped the blockade if Midorima’s build would’ve permitted it.

 

"I... Was looking for you," the taller man spouted, breathless. They both took a moment to acknowledge the smell of cigarettes lingering on Takao's clothes and breath, and the disheveled state of Midorima's clothes and hair.

 

Himuro chose this moment to appear behind Takao, confirming Midorima’s earlier suspicions. With a gentle smile, the dark-haired beauty took his leave after giving Takao a quick pat on the shoulder.

 

“So...” Takao began, suddenly wishing he’d brought a piece of gum or something with him. “I guess it’s kind of obvious but, why were you looking for me?”

 

The sudden pause from Midorima didn’t inspire confidence; apparently in his fixation on finding Takao, he’d neglected to consider what exactly his reasons were.

 

“I… Don’t know.” The taller man muttered, failing to register the look of disappointment that flashed across Takao’s sullen features. “But… I just knew I had to find you.”

 

“It’s a start,” Takao shrugged at length, his usual smirk returning. “Let’s just take things slowly.” At that, he offered his hand, the momentary flicker of disappointment shoved to the back of his mind, among many other things.

 

Midorima accepted the gesture with a sigh of relief. “I’ll be in your care then.”

 

“That’s my line.” Takao laughed in response.

 

At that moment neither of them expected there to be a Kaiju attack two days after Takao had submitted his written report. Nor did they expect the sudden bite that shook and tossed the conn-pod beyond anything they’d ever experienced. There was the bone-jarring whine of metal grinding against metal as their Jaeger’s left arm sheared off under the might of Kaiju jaws, striking Midorima’s mind numb with panic as they lost their primary offense systems.

 

Takao’s words didn’t reach him; the shooter was the first to fall out of their neural bond, Takao plummeting out straight after.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Midorima had laid unconscious in an ICU ward since then, unknowing that his and Takao’s lives were owed to none other than Himuro and Murasakibara.

 

Nakatani gently closed the door of Midorima’s recovery ward behind him, not at all surprised to see Akashi waiting in the hallway. With a slight nod of beckon from the Marshall, they both walked towards the Shuutoku Psych Analyst office.

 

“Will Shintarou be alright?” Akashi muttered, eyes never leaving the hallway before them, his voice solemn. Nakatani couldn’t quite help feeling that checking on Midorima had merely been for formality’s sake; not that he didn’t understand why.

 

“He will be, he just needs time to recover from the shock to his system. It’s Takao I’m more concerned about.”

 

Anyone else looking at the outcome would’ve immediately assumed Midorima had been the one who drew the short end of the straw. To anyone who bothered to look under the surface though, it would’ve become clear to them that Takao’s mental stability was hanging on by a miserable, rapidly fraying thread.

 

Not that he let any of it show, wherein the authorities’ problems lay.

 

Beyond his concern for Midorima, the man didn’t behave any different from his usual self, still bouncing around the Shatterdome when he was called for. But the smell of cigarettes and dark pouches under his eyes tattled silent volumes. Barring summons, he was rarely seen, and not once had he gone to the hospital wing Midorima lay warded in. Despite him escaping from the attack relatively unharmed (cuts, scrapes and numerous bruises aside), it seemed to the rest of the Shatterdome that something in Takao had too been lost at sea.

 

A small figure traversed the Shatterdome, largely unnoticed as he slipped by people, ducking under equipment, casually sipping on a vanilla shake he’d taken from the cafeteria when the staff finally noticed him asking for permission. Slowly he made his way through the crowds, heading higher and higher, in no hurry to savor his drink knowing there was a long way to go yet.

 

Akashi had been rather methodical about coaxing his Rangers to get along; the staterooms of the empty drift pilots and their partners were located along roughly the same strip. At the door of his own stateroom, Kuroko noticed Himuro slowly stepping out of one of the rooms after whispering back into it over his shoulder. The tall beauty then pulled the heavy door shut behind him and exited the corridor with a sigh.

 

Curious, and just about reaching the bottom of his cup, Kuroko strolled up to the door, quietly stepping in after having glanced at the nameplate.

 

Takao turned to him from his bed, eyes squinting at the light. “That was quick, have you-” his expression froze, the taller man immediately getting up and dragging his hands across his face in an attempt to tidy his hair. “Ah, Kuroko, right? Sorry you had to see that, been feeling a bit under the weather, no biggie.” A somehow artificial smile plastered on his face, Takao dragged his seat across the room, gesturing for Kuroko to sit. He did, still sipping carefully on the last of his shake, fixing Takao with a blankly questioning stare.

 

“You haven’t gone to see him have you.” Kuroko said simply after releasing his straw.

 

There was a strangled laugh, Takao running a hand through his dark hair, probably a bit more roughly than he’d intended to let show while resting against the nearby wall. “Haha, are you kidding? Of course I have. He needs rest though, so I try not to-”

 

“Everyone knows you haven’t.”

 

At this, Takao turned to the other man, his raised hand slowly falling back to his side. The look in his eyes as he turned away again was both unfocused and intense, the man staring at a patch on the wall with a sort of fearful intensity.

 

It was there again, one of those instincts and habits Takao didn’t know he had. Every time he tripped over a landmine, he’d be maimed without ever knowing he’d trespassed on dangerous land. He froze where he stood, unsure of how long had passed, Kuroko passively staring at him. Unmoving, unquestioning, silently scrutinizing.

 

“They do don’t they,” he laughed at length, sitting heavily on the edge of his bed again. “I just thought that, if I stayed away from him, maybe he’d feel better for now.”

 

A knock on the door seized the conversation, Takao swinging his head violently towards the source of the sound before realizing his overreaction. After a deep breath, he composed himself and pulled the door open to Himuro, holding the two mugs of coffee he'd offered to go get. He looked past Takao into the room, the usual gentle smile on his face. “Well, if it isn’t Kuroko? What brings you here?”

 

Takao cut in before Kuroko could answer. “We were just having a little talk. Sorry though, he took your seat.” With that and a chuckle, he relieved Himuro of one of the mugs. The taller man merely waved it off, helping himself to the end of Takao’s bed.

 

“Himuro-kun, you’re spoiling him.” Kuroko piqued immediately after he’d finished his shake. If it’d have kept him quiet, Takao thought to himself, he wouldn’t  have minded running down to the canteen just to get him another. “He can’t stay like this forever, this isn’t going to help him or Midorima-kun.”

 

Himuro fixed a stern look on the blue-haired man, setting his coffee down with a sigh. “Everyone has their own ways of adjusting, he just needs some time to-”

 

Kuroko ignored this, turning once more to Takao, who didn’t seem entirely keen on granting him eye contact. “Takao-kun, you have to realize. There is no restart button anymore, just as we can remember the good, we also have to remember the bad now.”

 

Takao flinched, gripping his coffee with white-knuckled hands before Himuro gently prised the mug from his fingers and set it aside. “What he’s trying to say is...” The taller man added softly, shifting over and landing a warm hand on Takao’s shoulder. “Right now, we’re going through what everyone else had to much earlier in life. The slow process of being beaten down and learning to walk all over again.”

 

Neither of them spoke, Takao still trying to gather himself and accept this new reality, all while incorporating Midorima's into it. Chewing on his straw, Kuroko ignored the disapproving-mother look from Himuro. “You really do spoil him.”

 

In the recovery wards, a nurse carefully pulled aside the curtain, only too aware that inside lay one of the top talents in the facility. However, when she saw Midorima up and about to pull the IV from his arm, she couldn’t quite help likening the ranger to a stubborn child.

 

“... Midorima Shintarou, I do not think what you’re about to do is a very good idea.”

 

He’d froze when he heard the curtain, staring back at her with a distinctly hand-in-the-cookie-jar look. He tried to talk, but heard nothing from his own lips, the man raising a hand to his throat with a curious frown.

 

Trying not to smile, she poured him a glass of water, which he dutifully took before attempting again.

 

“I need to find him,” came the reassuring sound of speech, forced out in a rough croak.

 

“Doctor Nakatani says you’re not to leave the ward yet.”

 

He let out a sigh, still feeling around his throat to ease the scratchiness. It took a second, but it became immediately obvious when he realized something was terribly out of place. “Where is it?” he gasped, locking eyes with the nurse, who took a step back, visibly confused.

 

“Where is what?”

 

He stood, grabbing her by the shoulders as she dropped her clipboard. “The band, where is it? The one I wear around my neck, where!?” Voice still hoarse and dry, she could barely understand him. But the commotion in an otherwise silent ward had been enough to gather other medical staff in around the bed.

 

Takao and Himuro looked up at the speaker as it gave the signature electrical crackle that came before an announcement. “Doctor Nakatani, you’re needed urgently in the hospital wing, ward 10 bed 6.”

 

Kuroko raised an eyebrow as Takao stood, eyes transfixed on the speaker as he stepped hesitantly towards the door. “That’s Shin chan’s ward.”

 

“It is,” Kuroko affirmed, standing and passing Takao as he reached for the door handlebar. “I guess this means he’s woken up.”

 

Takao stared at the man as he slowly stepped out of the stateroom. “What do you mean?”

 

“You don’t know this but… While he was still out cold, they took it off.” Kuroko said calmly, raising a free hand to tap his neck. “His good luck charm.”

 

Eyes wide in horror, the raven-haired man rushed the door without bothering to tidy his hair or clothes. Wheeling into the hallways, Takao ran out of the stateroom area towards the hospital wing that he’d deliberately avoided; but because of that, knew exactly where it was.

 

Midorima was being restrained just as Doctor Nakatani walked in, knowing exactly what it was the ranger wanted. Upon seeing the familiar face, Midorima calmed slightly, despite his trembling limbs and feral, wide-eyed glares. Despite the reluctance of most people to even approach the ranger at this point, his Psych Analyst walked up, landed a hand on the man’s shoulder, and calmly guided him back towards the bed while staff held their breath, slowly stepping back.

 

“Don’t worry, Midorima, I have it right here.” He said, gingerly removing the band from his pocket. He held it out of reach as Midorima made a swipe for it, fixing a hard stare on his patient. “Midorima, we need to talk about this. Of all these years as your Psych Analyst and counselor, you’ve never once told me why you feel you need to have this to succeed.”

 

“You’re wrong, that’s not it, you can't hold on to it, I need to-”

 

“Midorima, we’re here to help you, all these years I’ve been here to help you, but I cannot force you to let go of something unless you do it willingly.” True to his profession, his voice remained calm, the words rapping relentlessly at the dusty archived memories that Midorima had long since locked away. “You can’t keep holding onto this. You need to believe in what you’re capable of.”

 

At those words, Midorima’s eyes fogged over.

 

When Takao set foot into the ward for the first time, Midorima had already been restrained, Doctor Nakatani sitting at a side nursing a sore on his shoulder where he’d hit the wall. Quickly surveying the scene, he pushed through the nurses just in time to see a syringe needle being pulled from Midorima’s arm.

 

Undeterred by the scene of chaos, Takao turned to their Psych Analyst, eyes screaming in panic even as his voice remained calm. “Where is it?”

 

Nakatani fixed a stern look on the other man. “He can’t keep using it as a crutch, you should know that better than anyone.”

 

He froze, staring horrified at the doctor. “You destroyed it?”

 

Confused, but curious, Nakatani shook his head, digging the frayed, orange band from his pocket. “It’s right here, just as he left-”

 

Takao quickly snatched it and rushed to Midorima’s side, the taller man barely still awake. “Shin chan? Shin chan can you hear me? It’s right here, don’t worry. I’m putting it in your hand now, ok? It’s alright...”

 

As Midorima slipped under, already silent, his vice grip on the band weakened to a loose fist, fingers tangled in the fraying strip of material.

 

Sunset that evening saw Takao seated in Nakatani’s office, the doctor still nursing his shoulder injury from earlier. “I expect you have a lot of explaining to do”, he muttered, still trying to suppress the occasional hisses when he rubbed his sore spot too hard.

 

“It’s not what you think it is.” Takao whispered grimly, twisting his fingers and debating with himself on how much information he was allowed to divulge. “But seriously, there ought to be some kind of rule against this.”

 

“There is, and it’s lesson one in Psych-Analyst training.” Nakatani sighed; using one half of the drift to spy or otherwise enquire on the other was an undermining of trust at best, and the strict rules against doing just that were hard wired into new Rangers and Analysts alike. However, after having spent 4 years trying to unlock Midorima’s icy shell with no success, sudden turns for the worst had forced all their hands; perhaps graciously so.

 

The doctor leaned back into his seat, setting his clipboard onto his lap. "It’s admirable that you're trying to protect him, but the fact is, we all are.” He paused, observing closely the effect of his words on his patient. “Granted I don't know what you clearly already do, but his well-being is in the interests of us all."

 

"Yeah, I know that." It didn’t need to be said, he understood the doctor’s intentions perfectly. After all, he himself relied heavily on their analyst and counselor, perhaps more than he’d relied on any other one person outside of the Jaeger conn-pod. Nodding feebly, and feeling the atmosphere shifting decidedly into therapy mode, Takao lowered his head, setting his teeth grimly and relating what he had seen.

 

It had been sometime in November; exams were just around the bend for a much younger Midorima, before lightning swirled under the waves of the Pacific, before the dreams of colossal humanoid battle machines became a horrifyingly necessary reality. When humanity didn’t yet know the wrath of the breach, or the creatures it set forth.

 

In simpler times, the boy had simpler pleasures, like investing his enthusiasm in a morning radio show with daily horoscope predictions; one that the Midorima lying unconscious in an ICU knew no longer existed. Lucky items were all part of the fanfare, as no one knew better than his parents, constantly both amused and frustrated by the oddities he would exhaust his allowance on.

 

Little Makoto had not a clue what the items were for, merely showing her older brother the same curious enthusiasm whenever he came home from school, almost certain to have something new with him. It became a constant; the first sound to welcome young Shintarou home was the pattering footsteps of his little sister, as well as her giggles and benign anticipation to see the lucky item of the day. Not to berate or poke, but simply to find out what it was.

 

Constantly depleting his allowance on lucky items, Shintarou had been thrilled when, on the eve of his sister’s birthday, the lucky item for Cancers was an orange ribbon; one that would have looked perfect on Makoto’s shoulder length baby hair. Affirming his belief in fate, Midorima had spent longer than usual picking out just the perfect one, keeping it well hidden in his pocket even as he reached home.

 

He’d taken Makoto’s disappointment in stride when he came home ‘empty handed’, knowing the thrill she’d receive later would make everything worth the wait. Smiling as he slept that night, he’d even felt his parents had an inkling on what he was up to, but silently cooperated.

 

He’d decided to stay home and study on the day. After all, exams were creeping ever closer, and as fond as Shintarou had been of his sister, he didn’t quite have the time or energy to spend all day at the zoo.

 

He’d been the one to fasten the ribbon to her hair, the little girl repeatedly reminding him to tie it securely, lest she lose it in the park.

 

Lose it though, she eventually did; it had been all that was left untouched by juvenile blood after she’d been dragged through the enclosure bars by a provoked animal. How, or why it happened, went to his parents’ graves on the day of the Onibaba attack.

 

“It’s not a crutch.” Takao continued softly, taking the silence on the Doctor’s side as grim reflection on years of acting on wrong assumptions. “Since then he’s always lived as the one who killed his sister, he think’s he’s… Cursed, or something like that. He doesn’t want to get close to anyone, the co-pilots he lost in battle while he survived only made this belief stronger.”

 

With a sigh, Nakatani set a hand on Takao’s shoulder, perhaps attempting to unknot the tension in his paling knuckles.

 

Voice beginning to tremble, Takao drew in a ragged breath as every emotion, every hasty retreat, every rejected handshake, every declined invitation, every whispered gossip behind Midorima’s back, all flowed to him from the depths of the drift at the same time. “He doesn’t relate to anyone, because he cares for everyone. By rejecting everyone, he’s keeping everyone safe; from him.”

 

“Putting his life at risk by joining the Jaeger program, and staying far away from the other rangers, even in combat…” Nakatani muttered, brows deeply furrowed, “Is that his idea of redemption?”

 

Takao nodded, a feeble grin pulling at the corners of his lips. “He told no one, save drift partners, the ones he couldn't hide it from out of military duty. But it all worked out perfectly. He took it all as confirmation that ostracizing himself really was his destiny. But even then… It killed him.”

 

“And so… The reminder.”

 

“That’s why he keeps it.” Takao sighed, removing himself from the chair for a drink. “To remind himself of what happened. Despite the isolation, despite the loneliness, despite all the empty hours he spends doing the same boring things over and over. He refuses to release himself, he won’t let anyone else release him either.”

 

Nakatani looked up from his notes to Takao gulping from a paper cup. “Did the drift tell him how stubborn you think he is?”

 

With a grin, the raven-haired man lowered his drink. “Absolutely.”

 

Midorima must have balanced on the tightrope between sleep and consciousness for about an hour.

 

When the grid on the ceiling refused to come into focus, he shifted his arm to reach for his glasses; then realizing he couldn’t. He tested his restraints, pulled taut with thick padding guarding his wrists. Brows deeply furrowed, the man began numbly trying to revive himself while surveying his surroundings.

 

With a sudden inhale, he looked down into his hand; the fraying ribbon lay safely in his grasp, and only then allowed himself to settle once more.

 

Who had put it there, he couldn’t recall. Nor could he remember how it had been removed from his neck to begin with. He remembered Nakatani, his inner soldier reminding him to plan on how he’d deal with the next mental health checkup. There was another voice, closer, more familiar, though it wasn’t Akashi. It sounded warmer, mischievous, undeniably a tad irritating, but less authoritatively distant. A childlike innocence borne of having no bias, no judgement, no pain; nothing.

 

“... Makoto?” He mouthed with parched lips, his speech muscles having once again fallen asleep as he lay. He hadn’t breathed a word about his sister in more than a decade, the name on his tongue almost felt foreign. Surely the warmth he recalled in those chaotic last moments couldn’t have been anyone but her.

 

Unless, he thought, staring unblinking at the fuzzy ceiling grid. “No… Takao.”

 

Midorima’s discharge had been followed almost unreasonably closely by a simulation. Neither of the Rangers were entirely decided on whether they were grateful, or bitter on being the only ones called out for this particular trial. On one hand, no more run-ins with angry Aomine. On the other, being called alone to the front of the classroom for scrutiny never could feel great.

 

This time, even Akashi had the mind to terminate the simulation.

 

Midorima’s return to their stateroom had been a silent one, mostly because Takao had slipped away once they’d suited down. He himself in no state to go safariing the Shatterdome to hunt for his partner, he’d often pictured Takao hanging around some high place, chatting with Himuro.

 

He sat at his desk, rummaging through the usual files and databases he’d normally use to kill time. Though, in sharp contrast to how effortlessly the hours used to slip by in this fashion, the mere sight of papers and folders made him feel… Bored. Incredibly so.

 

Habitually, his hand reached for his neck. Oblivious to the reason, he wondered what Takao would’ve done to pass time. It always seemed so effortless, how he enjoyed just about anything and took note of every little detail, as if everything he did was his first-

 

… On that note, Midorima paused again, staring down blankly at the same material he’d studied and revised time and time after; dog-eared pages and the occasional coffee stain be witness.

 

With a sigh, he set the folders back into alphabetical order on his shelves.

 

“Midorimacchi? Midorimacchi---?” Kise’s voice, and rapping on the steel door reverberating through the room, roused him from a nap he didn’t remember taking.

 

Kise seemed pleasantly surprised at being invited in, but stayed at the door, relaxing just a bit. “No biggie, just a message from Doctor Nakatani,” the blond had beamed, “he said to meet him in the drivesuit room asap. Like, right now. Stat.”

 

Midorima raised an eyebrow, glancing questioningly towards the ceiling intercomm. Kise shrugged in response, apparently clueless.

 

The drivesuit room seemed almost haunting once it’d been emptied, Takao noted, more used to the room being full of technicians, an infernal whirring of power-tools, people shouting orders, the intercomm blaring overhead, the likes. Taking the opportunity to poke at unmanned tools and equipment, he couldn’t help feeling like an apprehended thief when the lights suddenly flicked on, and another person stepped into the room.

 

Midorima had nearly jumped when Takao whipped around to face him, the look of surprise quickly replaced by one of bafflement.

 

“Where’s Doctor Nakatani?”

 

Takao raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you mean His Eminence the Marshall?”

 

The very moment Midorima stepped into the room after some moments of hesitation, they heard the whine of doors swinging shut, heavy bolts clanging into place.

 

The rangers stood flabbergasted in place, Takao soon pitting himself against the steel doors while Midorima moved further into the Jaeger conn-pod to try the comms. Relief washed over him upon hearing Akashi’s voice through the system.

 

“Two of you, talk it out.” With that, the comms went dead, as did the glimmer of hope in Midorima’s eyes.

 

Takao padded up behind his partner, letting out a resigned sigh when that snatch of Akashi’s voice finally transcribed into his mind. “So… We taking his advice or what?”

 

Finding himself a nice patch of vacant wall to lean on, Midorima shrugged, folding his arms across his chest. “It appears to be the only way we’re getting out of here.”

 

Takao’s foot scuffed the ground as he gave a grunt in response. “Start talking then, I guess.”

 

A secure cabinet under lock and key right ahead of them in the room, the one they both knew contained their drivesuits, felt like a stern reminder of what exactly was at stake; the security of over a hundred and thirty million people, hitching innocently on this little dialogue.

 

The room felt stifling, densely saturated with all the things they knew they had to say. Swirling, intangible wisps of confrontations and confessions they’d thought of flinging in each others’ faces during coffee breaks, in the showers, while walking down the corridors. In midst of the perfect opportunity, they found everything they’d wanted to say suddenly chained to the back of their throats.

 

“Well...” Takao had begun after considerable silence.

 

“Yeah.” Only after effectively shutting down the opportunity to talk did Midorima realize what his single ill-considered word had done. He drew in a deep breath as Takao’s eyes turned back to the ground. As redemption, perhaps, he spoke up once more. “We need to trust each other.”

 

He felt a stab from the huff of breath that escaped Takao’s upturned lips.

 

“Sure.”

 

“I’m being serious.” Midorima added indignantly, brows creasing as Takao’s eyes finally met his for what seemed like the first time in weeks. “That’s what this entire process hinges on, the bond between the Rangers. If we don’t trust each other, nothing will ever-”

 

“Yeah I get it already.” Takao stopped him cold, the irritation in his voice poignant enough for even Midorima to detect. “There, we’ve talked it out, whoever’s listening should just let us outta here already.”

 

They both turned to the door. Not a click.

 

Dragging a palm across his face, Takao cringed at the implications.

 

Midorima on the other hand seemed at a genuine loss, moving towards the door. Takao watched him fiddling at the locks and switches with quickly building irritation, though the lock on his lips remained firm. “That should have been sufficient, maybe this is some kind of a mistake.”

 

Well, to hell with reservations, Takao decided with a roll of his eyes. “If there’s any mistake here, it’s pairing us together to pilot this damn thing in the first place.” He hissed, kneading the bridge of his nose. Midorima turned, shocked and visibly clueless, accelerating Takao’s slow boil. “Can no one but me see that putting us together is like putting two empty pilots together? You might as well be running this thing on an AI.”

 

Shoulders squaring, Midorima drew himself to full height. “That’s ridiculous, I have memories, I don’t-”

 

Takao took a step closer, cutting him off. “Well, here’s some news genius. You don’t even need fancy equipment to wipe your memories, cause you’ve gone and done it on your goddamn own.” With Midorima conveniently towering over him, he couldn’t help wanting to punch the guy in the gut.

 

“What are you talking about, that’s impossible, you of all people should know I remember everyth-”

 

“Oh Jesus Christ,” Takao groaned audibly, marching right up to his partner and jabbing the guy in the chest. Contrary to what he’d expected, Midorima didn’t shrink away, instead standing firmly where he’d been. Staring down to where Takao’s finger had landed just below his neck, he saw a familiar shade of orange. “There, that, see? Your pretty little reminder.” Their eyes met again in a gradually heating glare, neither willing to back down. “You’ve been hiding behind some self-righteous divine purpose all these years. Where’re the consequences? Where’s your life been ever since your sister died?”

 

Midorima made no move beyond slapping Takao’s hand away. “Consequences?” he laughed, “Take a look at yourself before talking to me about consequences. With a life that’s been as carefree as yours, who’re you to criticize someone who’s been reliving the same set of painful memories everyday for years?”

 

Takao bit his lip, Midorima had him up against the figurative wall.

 

“Carefree? Is that what you think my life is?” Takao gritted, hands balling into fists by his sides.

 

Midorima’s hand moved to adjust his glasses, already perfectly in place. “Hmph. Sometimes I wonder if you’re even capable of responsibility.”

 

“Oh you sonova… You think you know everything!” Admittedly, Takao making a vengeful grab for Midorima’s collar had looked rather comical, but with a yank that Midorima didn’t know Takao was capable of, the smaller man dragged him down to eye level. “Listen up, if you think living life as a fucking spare-part is carefree, you’re all the imbecile I’ve ever thought you were and more.”

 

The shaking in Takao’s arms and fists easily meant fury. However, the tightness in his throat had Midorima second-guessing. By the time his voice broke on his sharpest words, it was too late to stop. “Oh, sure, it might’ve been carefree if I wasn’t fucking broken. But too bad son, you’re stuck with a failed specimen. I have memories, if you can even call them that. These stupid nagging feelings in my gut that something’s going horribly wrong all the fucking time. No reason, no basis, nothing to go by. I don’t even know what the hell they are.”

 

Takao paused, his voice snagging on a choke, ignorant to the softening in Midorima’s glare. To the taller Ranger, it had never occurred before just how small Takao was standing in front of him. The grip on his collar loosened, Midorima demurely allowing Takao’s lowered head and shaking form to rest against his chest.

 

It took a notable pause for Takao to speak once more; though his voice wasn’t quite as stable as he might’ve been hoping it would. “You think you know everything about me. And well, shit, maybe you do. But you don’t understand any of it.”

 

“I never saw the need to.” Midorima whispered, hesitating considerably before an awkward arm circled around Takao’s back.

 

A chuckle coming from the small form in his arms relieved Midorima more than he thought possible, followed by what felt an awful lot like Takao settling against him. “You’re just as broken as I am.”

 

Gaze shifting towards the open door leading to their conn-pod, it took awhile for Midorima to nod. “You’re probably right.”

 

Following a slight pause, Takao relented his arms to rest on those of his partner; Midorima feeling an unimaginable comfort from the weight of Takao on his chest. “What the hell are we going to do with two broken pilots.” He laughed; though this time somehow, Midorima noticed the invisible strings drawing up his smile.

 

It took awhile for him to respond, his emerald green eyes taking in the jet black hair nuzzled comfortably under his chin. What was this feeling, he wondered; familiar yet not, just a hairs’ breadth away from deja vu. With a sigh, his last reservations were released into the drivesuit room around them.

 

“Find rest, I suppose.”

 

There was a moment of calm, like the end of movie credits when no one quite knew if there was more to come. Following which a heavy clunk from the exit snapped up both of their attentions, simultaneously ejecting them from each other.

 

Nail checking and glasses adjusting were interrupted by the intercomms sounding out once more.

 

“You’re free to go.”

 

Hearing Akashi’s voice overhead, they didn’t need to look at each other to know their faces shared the same shade of crimson.

 

Doctor Nakatani made the last of his notes, standing as the Marshall did to leave a LOCCENT which had been vacated beyond the two of them. “I’m supposing we’ll leave it to the drift for Midorima to find out that Takao had spoken up about his past.”

 

“Perhaps Takao will tell him on his own volition.” Akashi had replied calmly, turning back to catch a last glimpse of the two rangers peering out into the open corridor outside their ‘temporary confinement’. “Under the circumstances, and in view of their progress,” He added, allowing himself indulgence of a slight smile while reaching for the door switch. “I think Shintarou will find it in himself to forgive his… Partner.”

 

Unsure if he was more impressed or unnerved, the doctor left it at that, and switched off the monitor as heavy metal doors slid shut behind Akashi.

 

However, unfortunately for Takao, and moreso Midorima, a certain blond had been tasked with delivering the summons to “Midorimacchi.” This probably explained the look of horror on the taller ranger’s face later that evening when Kise, feigning nonchalance, plonked himself next to Takao, who was seated somewhere near the center of the canteen. Midorima observed in silence, from his own designated corner.

 

An incriminating grin of mirth in Kise’s bright amber eyes, while excitedly shaking the tip of Takao’s sleeve, was all it took for Midorima to stand with his tray.

 

“C’mon Takaocchi what happened? I mean, obviously Doctor Nakatani won’t say a thing, then you two both disappeared for gosh knows how long, and no one’s allowed into the LOCCENT or the hallways outside Nemo’s drivesuit room!”

 

“What is it with you and mysteries, for reals.” Takao had smirked back, leaning on a palm. “You sure you wouldn’t be better off writing celebrity gossip or someth-”

 

He stopped the moment he noticed Kise’s attention on something above his head. Turning around, he came face-to-tray with Midorima, pointing at the empty seat next to Takao that someone had hastily vacated. At least, Takao remembered it being occupied.

 

“May I sit here.” Came the enquiry, as if half the canteen hadn’t been staring at them.

 

Kise and Takao both numbly nodded, watching Midorima’s every move as he settled down with his tray, and resumed his meal.

 

The din in the canteen bounced hesitantly back to its’ usual volume.

 

“So.” Takao began, smugly appreciating the hissed “shush”s and “shut up, later”s Kise was flinging his way. “You wanna continue on what we’d been discussing?”

 

“I don’t think that would be necessary.” Midorima replied for him, the blond folding his arms with a dissatisfied pout-

 

… One that soon softened into an eye-crinkling smile. “You’re right. I’ve gotten allll I need.”

 

The pilots shared a look before Takao gave a shrug, and they returned to their meals.

 

To most, the behavior of the two pilots as individuals had not changed much. Midorima solemn and silent as always, with Takao remaining curious to everything around him.

 

The difference, some more sensitive staff had noted, was probably that Midorima more than anyone else had become the source of answers to Takao’s every little question. Like a parent with a toddler, tireless and accommodating.

 

Few took notice of their subtle avoidance of the drivesuit room till the next simulation, which had gotten off to rocky start, but eventually rose to levels above even their initial performance. At the very least, it had been enough to keep Aomine happy (but fuck if he’d admit it), grant the pair precious time to adjust to their new tactics, and build their confidence bit by precarious bit.

 

Though, little of that deterred the obligatory jitters when their next deployment did inevitably arrive.

 

Takao had nearly fallen out of the bed at the sudden overhead alarms, with Midorima peering up towards the ceiling intercomms from his book. “Kaiju.” He whispered, Takao’s eyes growing wider as the color bled from his face.

 

Following his normal routine, the star pilot wasted no time getting his affairs and gear in order, quickly preparing himself and inwardly chuckling at Takao’s racket in the background. Though, his turn to feel nervous finally arrived when the drivesuit room opened its doors to them, in all its busy, crawling, bustling glory.

 

Squaring his shoulders, he sauntered in, Takao sticking a bit closer to his side than he remembered the other man ever being. The alarms had blared all this time, but only then did they finally sink in, howling in Midorima’s ears, hammering home what was only too soon to come.

 

His first mission without Akashi, his first time making decisions, calling the literal shots. His first deployment with Takao, and it was just about to begin.

 

Reassuring himself with success of previous simulations only went so far, and before he knew it, he’d already mouthed his mental counting to 89 while technicians suited the pair up. Hadn’t it been for Takao’s sudden chuckle, he may not have noticed at all.

 

“Shin chan. You’re counting again.”

 

He’d just released 97. “... I was?”

 

Takao turned back towards the conn-pod entrance, laughing away the tension in his own shoulders as their mechanical spines were finally set in place; a chain of solid clanking securing their entire drivesuits together. Final checks were made, the pair then ushered towards the conn-pod entrance; still shut and forbidding even as mechanical life groaned and whirred behind it.

 

For the first time since they’d left the stateroom, Takao’s eyes met those of his partner. His voice was warm and clear, even in the din of the drivesuit room, saturated in tension. “Don’t worry, just do your thing, it’ll be fine.”

 

Overcome by a wave of inexplicable calm, Midorima raised a brow, resisting the urge to pet his partner on the head. “How do you know that?”

 

Takao smirked, the conn-pod doors opening in front of them with a rush of sterilized air.

  
“Just a feeling.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm playing with ideas for the "hazing challenge" of robbing Murasakibara's pantry ;) If I feel cracky enough perhaps.


End file.
